


Thus Saith The Lord

by CuddlyHawk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 10 Plagues, Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Gen, Podfic Available, Protective Crowley, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), crowley goes by crawly, plagues of egypt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 13:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyHawk/pseuds/CuddlyHawk
Summary: Aziraphale is sent to Egypt to help a Hebrew named Moses free his people from Egypt's tyrannical pharaoh. While he's there, he discovers that his wily adversary Crawly has been living in Egypt for a while... And he's in Pharaoh's court, revered as a god.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	Thus Saith The Lord

**Author's Note:**

> If you've never seen The Prince of Egypt, go ahead and [watch this intro clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7DeWzsbkAcM) so you know what the characters/scenes look like during this story: 
> 
> If you HAVE seen it, I'll link the Plagues song when it's time to listen!
> 
> ~ ~ ~  
Also, I did a podfic for this story! So if you'd like to hear me attempt a British accent as I read the story to you, go ahead and click [[here]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24213676) and you can read along with me <3

1248 BC

Aziraphale may not have been consulted on policy decisions, but he was always told where to be, and when. So it was no surprise when he was told to go to Egypt. It was no real trouble getting there. Maybe only a month or so, as he was on foot. He hadn't left Mesopotamia before then, and was rather excited to really get out into the world to do some good.

But now he stood at the edge of a huge pit of mud. Workers trudged through the sludge, trembling and pushing their bodies past what they were physically capable of. Gabriel had told Aziraphale how bad it was for God's people, but to see it in person was a whole new thing. The smell of sweat and blood and pain permeated the air and Aziraphale felt sick. He had never seen something as nauseating and heartbreaking before.

As he watched, an Israelite stumbled over his own feet and fell, arms scraping against the muddy ground. Immediately an Egyptian raised a whip and Aziraphale had to look away quickly as the Israelite was given merciless lashes until he was able to struggle to his feet once more.

A low snarl caught his attention and he had just barely turned to see what was making the sound, when he was roughly shoved. He lost his footing and tumbled down into the pit as well, arms immediately sinking into the mud.

Dazed, Aziraphale pushed himself up and looked for his attacker. It was an Egyptian, and he looked angry. He was saying something, but Aziraphale couldn't understand him. As the population on Earth grew, more and more languages popped up as well and Aziraphale had some trouble keeping up with all of them. The words sounded vaguely Arabic, but just different enough that he couldn't quite understand the angry slave driver. He quickly got to his feet and he was roughly grabbed by the back of his tunic and shoved forward until he was nose-to-nose with some kind of stone block.

He slowly understood that the Egyptian thought he was a Hebrew and therefore should be working to build...whatever it was the Israelites were building for the Egyptians. But Aziraphale had other things to do here; he couldn't waste time here like this. Aziraphale straightened and turned to look the Egyptian in the eyes. "Stop," he demanded.

No one had really told him, but apparently Aziraphale had a bit of godly power inside him, even disguised as a human. He discovered them on accident one day and was so terrified, he vowed not to use them unless absolutely necessary. When he asked Gabriel about it, he was simply told that he was to "ensure goodness upon the world" and that was it. No explanation, no walkthrough on how exactly to do it, nothing.

And so, he reached deep into his soul when he told the Egyptian to stop, hoping the miracle would happen like it had before.

But nothing happened. The Egyptian scowled and smacked Aziraphale upside the head. Fear settled into Aziraphale's stomach. The Egyptian, upon realizing that Aziraphale was not going to get back to work, snatched the angel at the back of the tunic once more and hauled him away from the stones, away from the mud pit, away from the slaves, and up a large flight of stairs. He was grumbling under his breath, but Aziraphale couldn't catch a single word. He wasn't sure if it was because of the dialect or because his heartbeat was so loud in his ears. Maybe both.

He was led into a palace-looking building and through a large archway that led to a polished throne room. In the far distance, Aziraphale saw a figure dressed in a huge, white headdress sitting upon the throne. The king, then. Or, whatever the Egyptians' equivalent of a king was. As Aziraphale got closer, he saw a few figures milling around the throne. Slaves, most likely. One was fanning the king. Another was nearby with a plate of fruit. A child sat on the floor at the foot of the throne, playing with a couple gold pieces.

Aziraphale allowed his eyes to wander further as the slave driver explained to the king in his strange language what the problem was. The room was impressive, no doubt. The walls were pristine, murals painted along every surface. Thick columns held up the ceiling and they were coated in something white and beautiful.

As he peered around the room, he suddenly felt someone's eyes on him. He glanced at the king, thinking it was him, but he was talking to the slave driver that had brought Aziraphale in. He frowned in confusion and turned until he locked eyes with the person staring daggers at him.

Locked eyes with a pair of yellow, slitted eyes.

Aziraphale's mouth dropped open.

Crawly? Crawly was here?? He was standing just to the right of the throne with a cobra snake wrapped around his shoulders. He held a staff in his hand and when Aziraphale got a good look at him, he realized Crawly was dressed in white, with gold accents and jewelry. Not as much as the king, but just enough to denote him as 'not a Hebrew'. Crawly's eyes were narrow and his gaze intense, as though he were trying to speak directly into Aziraphale's mind.

Quite suddenly, Aziraphale's shoulder was shoved and he stumbled a step closer to the throne. In the corner of his eye, he saw Crawly take a halting step forward, almost anxiously. His expression changed quickly and his voice called out, loud to Aziraphale's ears, and he was shocked to hear how fluently Crawly was able to speak the Egyptians' language. He watched as Crawly smoothly stepped forward, brandishing his staff at the slave driver. The man immediately fell back and Aziraphale got a taste of just how much power Crawly truly had here.

A sick feeling welled up inside Aziraphale. If he had so much power, it was likely Crawly had a say in how the Israelites were being treated.

Aziraphale was here to help someone named Moses to free the Israelites. Aziraphale suddenly feared he was going to have to fight Crawly. They hadn't fought yet. Not really, anyway. He had been warned that the demon would cause problems for him and they might have to fight, but they had thankfully avoided that so far. If Crawly wanted to smite him, he was really taking his time.

Crawly stepped forward, between the king and Aziraphale, his tone growing sharp. The sudden flutter Aziraphale felt was quickly pushed away. It had to be nerves, nothing more. Either that, or the fact that Crawly's pet cobra was eerily staring at Aziraphale as Crawly spoke.

The king finally grumbled something and waved his hand dismissively. Crawly turned and snatched Aziraphale's wrist, pulling him from the throne room. Aziraphale followed dumbly, trying to take in the architecture around them. It was truly beautiful. Nothing like this could be found in Mesopotamia. They reached a small cottage at the edge of the upper ring and Crawly pushed the curtain aside, pulling Aziraphale inside with him.

Just as Aziraphale was about to ask what was going on, Crawly beat him to it.

"What the heaven are you doing here?" He hissed, stepping into Aziraphale's personal space. The snake on his shoulder flicked its tongue at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale swallowed. "Ah well, Gabriel told me to come here. It's part of the Great Plan," he admitted, looking to the side. Crawly considered him for a moment, then stepped back, eyes narrowed.

"Which is?"

"We are to rescue the Hebrews. Take them to a promised land, away from slavery and pain." Aziraphale said softly. This was the big moment. Where he got to see if Crawly would turn into his real adversary. Aziraphale shifted his weight so he could run for the exit if it got dangerous. But while Crawly's eyes widened, he didn't immediately attack the angel.

There was a stretched silence and Aziraphale fidgeted quietly, hands wringing together. Finally Crawly spoke, "I'm going with you."

"You– wait, what?"

"Eh, I've been considering leaving for a while," Crawly admitted. He blew out a heavy breath and absently reached up to drag his fingers gently down the cobra's hood. "I was in my large snake Aspect. The one from the Garden, you remember. Someone saw me and before I knew it, there was this... a huge rush of people coming after me. I was able to out-slither them," he shook his head, "but only for a moment. Just long enough to change into my human Aspect. They caught up to me and demanded to know where the snake was. I made up something about banishing it to Hell, told them snakes will listen to me, and the pharaoh decided he wanted me to protect him from some snake god called 'Apophis'. Great imaginations, these humans," Crawly groaned and gave a deep sigh. "It's been fun, I admit. But I've been here for nearly fifty years and it's getting boring. I'll change into a snake to cause some chaos in the town, but I'll leave Pharaoh alone so he thinks I'm protecting him. It's the same thing over and over. I've been trying to think of a reason to leave. This is perfect!"

Aziraphale blinked a few times. "This is...God's Great Plan."

Crawly nodded, "Eh, m– er, yeah."

"So...I'm fairly certain that means you aren't meant to like it."

Crawly shrugged. "W– I mean, what exactly _is_ the plan?"

* * *

Crawly stood at Pharaoh's side, a mischievous grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. The snake hugged closer to Crawly's neck and everyone straightened when a scruffy Israelite walked in, brandishing a staff and insisting for Ramses to "let my people leave" and threatened plagues upon the land if the Pharaoh denied him.

When the Hebrew, Moses, turned his staff into a serpent to prove God's power, Crawly rolled his eyes. Of all the creatures to manifest, of _course_ it was a snake. "I'll protect you from Apophis and all his followers." Crawly hissed into Pharaoh's ear and snapped his fingers, materializing two small snakes to prove his own power. Ramses watched the three snakes arch up and hiss at each other, and sat back with a smirk.

"Simple magick, brother," he sneered at the Hebrew. "Call down your plagues. I will never let your people go."

Moses' shoulders sunk but he took a deep breath and gently picked up his own snake—which was somewhat fatter than it was before, and Crawly's snakes were nowhere to be seen—and it transformed back into a staff. "The Egyptians will suffer because of you," Moses promised darkly before he swept from the room.

Pharaoh chuckled and watched Crawly from the corner of his eye. "His 'god' has no power here."

Crawly's mouth pressed into a tense smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He of course knew just how powerful Moses' God was, but it was his job to keep Pharaoh here. To make him think he was protected, only for the plagues to strike him down tenfold and cause his heart to soften sooner rather than later. He only hoped it would work. He couldn't bare for children to suffer because of this man. Thankfully they had quite a few other plagues before the 'death of the firstborn' happened.

Moses went back to his home and let himself drop heavily into a chair. Aziraphale rested his hand on his shoulder, already knowing the pharaoh's answer. He gently pushed Moses' staff into his hand with a solemn expression. Moses sighed and took it into his hand before making his way to the Nile and dipping the tip into the water.

At the palace, Crawly felt a tug in his stomach. A large miracle was happening. But he stayed still and pretended not to feel it. If he remembered the plagues all in order, this would be water turning to blood. Any moment now–

[[Click here and start the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDtGfvc3WzY)]

"Pharaoh!" An Egyptian guard came rushing in, eyes wild and gesturing wildly outside. "The Nile, my lord!" The pharaoh frowned and sat forward before getting to his feet and following the guard. He laid eyes upon the dark red river and his brow creased. His gaze rose and he saw Moses standing on the other bank, staff in hand, frowning deeply at Ramses. The pharaoh scowled and swept back into the palace.

Crawly stepped forward and waved his hand carelessly. "We have wine, my Pharaoh. Water is for the peasants to drink. They will be the ones to suffer." But even as he said it, the rancid smell of the bloody water seeped into the palace. He purposefully ignored it. "We will be fine."

That night, as Crawly laid in bed and listened to the distant rumble of thunder, he recited the plagues Aziraphale had told him would happen over the course of the week.

The next one would be–

The rumble grew louder and Crawly realized that it wasn't actually thunder. It was the sound of hundreds of thousands of frogs leaving the rancid blood-water. He sat bolt upright when he felt something cold against his side, and he launched himself out of bed, trying to avoid stepping on any stray frogs. "Shit," he mumbled, face twisting in disgust. He stumbled from his home and stepped outside, just to see a thick cloud descend upon the city.

When it reached him, he realized they were bugs. Small bugs, like flies, that threatened to fly right up Crawly's nose. He clapped his hands over his face and took off running, not bothering to grab anything from his plague-infested house.

"Aziraphale!" He shouted when he made it to the middle of the Hebrews' neighborhood. He turned in a circle and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Aziraphale, where the heaven are you?"

The angel came running, eyes wide. "Crawly?" He asked with a frown. Crawly waved a hand wildly back at the Egyptians' homes.

"They– The frogs! They're absolutely everywhere! I was in bed! And the _bugs_, Aziraphale. Why are they coming after _me?_ I thought it was just the Egyptians to suffer!"

Aziraphale shrugged helplessly, trying to think. "The Almighty did say even innocents will suffer until Pharaoh agrees to release the Hebrews." Crawly's face crumpled. Aziraphale smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry my dear, before the end of the week, we will be free!"

"For your sake, I hope you're right."

* * *

The lice was annoying, but the boils were worse. Everyone was on edge with one another and Pharaoh lashed out at Crawly a few times, demanding to know why he wasn't protecting him like he agreed. He threatened to kill Crawly if he didn't step up. But then the lightning started and the fiery hail shut everyone up.

Pestilence-ridden animal carcasses lined the fields. After the fiery lightning died down, the flesh was starting to smell. Crawly tended to hold his breath as he walked now, too afraid to breathe in the death all around him. He was almost grateful when the locusts arrived and took care of the dying crops until there was nothing left but stale air.

Crawly had discovered years ago that he could cast tiny...miracles? It felt wrong to call them miracles since he was no longer holy. He had taken to calling it 'magick'. When he snapped his fingers, he could perform spells, enforce his will, create things from nothing. Nearly anything he could imagine, he could do. Almost like God, but not nearly as powerful.

He learned this painful fact the hard way when he came back to his house.

He knew everything green had been eaten by the flies, all the animals struck down with pestilence. So while it hurt, it wasn't a surprise that all his potted plants were dead, as was his pet cobra. In a moment of grief, he tried miracling his snake alive again, but it was then that he learned that he was not as powerful as God, as the snake remained unmoving in his hands. He couldn't change God's Will.

In private, he magicked away his own boils and lice. Only when he was standing at Pharaoh's side did he manifest them, so he could avoid being questioned as to why he wasn't being affected.

After the locusts destroyed everything on the land and moved on, there was an eerie silence that settled over the kingdom. Crawly's jaw tightened. The plague of darkness was upon them.

Almost on cue, all the lights were snuffed out. The torches blew out, the sun seemed to be covered by a thick, black cloud, and an irreversible darkness fell over the land. Crawly bit his tongue. It took a moment, but slowly his vision adjusted. He was part snake, after all. And Hell was particularly dim, so he was somewhat used to the dark. But this was nothing like anything he had ever seen before. The darkness was _absolute_. Everyone else seemed to be struggling. In the cover of darkness, Crawly cleared his skin of boils and lice and snuck away from the throne room while everyone was distracted and bumping into things while cursing and shouting at one another.

He was surprised to find that the darkness reached all the way down to the Hebrews' neighborhood as well. He squinted through the dark and his ears were able to pick out the tiny whimpers that a few Israelites were making. Up until then, they hadn't really been affected by the plagues. Sure, the livestock were dead, but many of them already had food in their homes since Moses warned them of what would happen. They would be okay for a few more days. But there was nothing to be done against the darkness. Even torches refused to stay lit, so along with the darkness came the cold.

"Aziraphale," Crawly hissed into the cold, dead silence.

A small gasp and Crawly's head whipped to land on a form huddled against the outside of one of the houses. He stepped closer and was able to make out the fact that this person was dressed all in white. "Angel?" He asked, kneeling down. Aziraphale's head jerked up toward him, but unseeing eyes darted around through the dark, trying to see.

"Crawly?" He asked weakly, reaching a hand out blindly. Crawly worried at his bottom lip and gently grabbed Aziraphale's searching wrist. "Oh thank heaven," Aziraphale breathed, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "I didn't realize...just how dark it would be." His voice wavered.

Crawly nodded in agreement. "Yeah," he mumbled aloud. "Took all of us by surprise, I think." Aziraphale wouldn't meet his eyes. Or maybe he couldn't. Crawly felt ill with a sudden realization. In Hell, he had somewhat gotten used to the cold darkness. He could manage this. But Aziraphale was used to Heaven and light and warmth and love. It occurred to Crawly just how awful this might be for the angel. "You can't see _anything?_"

Aziraphale's brow furrowed, squinting as he looked around them. "No, nothing. Can you?"

"Yeah," he sounded surprised. "It's darker than Hell is, I'll give it that. But I can make out shapes pretty well." An idea struck Crawly. He raised his hand and willed there to be light. He snapped his fingers to manifest it, but nothing happened.

Aziraphale startled at the sudden noise and frowned deeper. "What was that?"

Crawly's stomach turned to ice. "Ah well, usually I can make magick when I snap my fingers. All I have to do is think of something and snap, and it appears." He snapped again with the same result. "But it's not working."

Aziraphale moved a little closer to Crawly and raised his own hand, the one not caught in Crawly's grasp, and tried snapping his own fingers. As expected, nothing happened there either. "Gabriel did say I could make minor miracles," he mused, then sighed. "I suppose the Great Plan can't be affected by a lower angel nor demon. God wanted darkness, and there shall be darkness."

He said it firmly, like he truly believed it, but Crawly could hear the slight tremor in his voice and saw the way his face tightened ever so slightly. It really was affecting more than he was letting on, Crawly understood.

Crawly knew that as a demon, he should use this moment of weakness to hurt the angel further. Maybe scare him, or lure him away from the town and leave him to suffer alone until the darkness lifted. But he couldn't bring himself to do so.

The darkness would only last a day or two. He could tell his superiors that he had been taking advantage of the darkness to get away with devilish acts. He'd have to think of a convincing lie later. For now, he just settled himself comfortably against the house they were leaning against, and hooked his right arm through Aziraphale's left so the angel knew he wasn't going to leave.

Aziraphale made a small noise of confusion. "What are you doing?" He asked. Crawly closed his eyes and leaned back against the adobe wall.

"I dunno about you, but I'm going to wait out the darkness. Can't really be doing anything out here, can we?"

There was a pause. Crawly cracked an eye open and watched as Aziraphale seemed to consider it. "No, I suppose we can't." And he settled more comfortably as well, keeping his arm looped around Crawly's.

* * *

To Crawly's dismay, Pharaoh's heart remained hardened even after the full two days of sobering darkness. Just as the light from the moon was beginning to come back, Moses declared the final plague was upon them. Crawly's stomach twisted miserably. He left the Hebrews with Aziraphale and tried to warn as many of the Egyptians as he could. Warned them to put blood along their door frame like the Israelites to protect their firstborns from a gruesome death. Many of them laughed in his face. After his prolonged absence and now his crazed babbling, many wrote him off as a lunatic. Even Pharaoh refused to listen to Crawly, even as he snatched the king's shoulders and shook him desperately, begging him to listen. For that, he was forcibly dragged from Pharaoh's presence and thrown outside with the threat that if he came near the pharaoh again, he would be killed.

Children were going to die tonight. He curled up on the steps to the palace and hugged his knees. He could get over losing his pet snake, but he couldn't get over the oh-so-mighty God smiting innocent children because of someone as hard-headed as Pharaoh.

It wasn't the first time, Crawly remembered darkly. Noah's great ark was another of the 'God smited children' events that thoroughly shattered Crawly's world. Bitterness rose in his heart and he was glad he was already Fallen, because he would definitely be struck down for the blasphemous thoughts he was having against God.

He didn't know how anyone could follow a God who so easily killed children.

The Hebrews painted the lamb's blood along the doorframes and Crawly watched, perched on the steps, as Death was sent out to take away the firstborns. God couldn't even do it himself, it seemed.

Crawly scowled. _Coward_.

One by one, Crawly felt as so many children took their last breath. He was grateful most of them were already asleep when it happened. He could feel the deaths deep in his soul and each one tore at Crawly a little more. There was nothing he could do.

* * *

Once it was done and the sun began to rise, Aziraphale found Crawly still curled up on the steps to the palace, a haunted look on his face. Compassion crushed Aziraphale's expression and he slowly stepped forward to kneel in front of Crawly.

He placed a hand on the demon's shoulder. "It's over," he said quietly.

Crawly raised his eyes tiredly at the angel. "I know." Aziraphale opened his mouth to try to offer some comfort, but Crawly looked down and continued, "Pharaoh says he will let Moses leave with the Israelites."

Aziraphale nodded, keeping his voice even. "Moses has already started leading them across the desert. I came to get you. You said you wanted to come with us, right?"

Crawly took a slow, deep breath. "You know Ramses' son was killed?" Aziraphale sighed and tightened his fingers on Crawly's shoulder, remembering the child that played with gold at Pharaoh's feet. He knew how much children meant to Crawly. He would never tell the demon, but he had seen him in the bowels of the Ark, with upward of a dozen kids of varying ages all huddled with him for comfort. Crawly had an incredibly soft spot for children.

Aziraphale opened his mouth to try to give reassurance, but paused when he heard Crawly sigh shakily. "He was just a kid. He was so _young_, Aziraphale."

"If his father had just–"

"Yeah but he's _not_ his father, is he? Er, _was_ he." Crawly's expression turned wretched and he hugged his knees tighter. "He's not here anymore."

Aziraphale's jaw worked silently but he couldn't think of anything to say. After a time, Crawly slowly stood up, expression carefully blank. "Let's go. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Thus Saith the Lord](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24213676) by [CuddlyHawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyHawk/pseuds/CuddlyHawk)


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